Revisited
by Maelgwyn
Summary: UPDATED! A RECORD! Ok, I will promise nto to write for a while. Mael. FF.N LET ME SPACE THE CHAPTERS PROPERLY! GRRRRRR!
1. Martian Reminder

~~~~~  
Martian Reminder  
Story: Revisited  
Anime: Cowboy Bebop  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: Angst, Adult themes  
Advisory: Tildes are scene changes; a star encapsulated with tildes is a temporal change  
~~~~~  
  
A solitary figure moved in the middle of rubble, its stubby legs frantically scrambling over the mass of debris. She was already too far ahead, her lithe body easily twisting and turning around the torn landscape, he knew, but that did not stop him trying to catch up. That was until a strange glinting caught his attention. An object, his mind instantly recognise it as an asteroid that pummeled the earth's surface at a constant rate, was falling, burning up in the atmosphere, its eternal glow weakening. A single tear rolled from his eye as he let out a woeful howl. It held a dual meaning, one beyond the scientific. One of the tear of a warrior, who had just completed his journey...  
  
~~*~~  
  
Jet stood silently, letting the bright sunlight warm his body. It was pretty quiet here, the odd bird chirping a gay* tune. He glanced down at the piece of marble, its shine worn away from years left in the elements. As he wiped away the grime that had accumulated on its surface, he smiled, taking off his white hat. "I'm back, buddy," he said quietly, hoping to not wake the dead...  
  
~~*~~  
  
We stood, huddled around a fresh mound of dirt; it was as if time itself was standing still for us. Stony expressions masked our raging emotions, as many of us still refused to believe that he was gone... Of all the people left, only the few that were the closest to him remained, still either disbelieving the truth, or just simply shocked that the seemingly invincible Spike Speigal died. Each person had a unique story; but they all intertwined with the same person.  
  
There was Faye Valentine, her face a stony mask of acceptance. The black veil hid most of her face, but her eyes... Her eyes were as if she disbelieved all; they translated the surrealism of the scene. She is still a wanted criminal; she owed more than she can ever hope to pay off in two generations. Their relationship was fraught with turmoil; she was a person who did not ever seem to trust him. She referred to him as a 'gaogo', a country bumpkin... Over the years, and the bounties, for when her eyes were not clouded with the elusive prize of money, she grew fond of him - that was certainty. Nevertheless, she was an enigma, one that refused to be understood....   
  
Ed and Ein.... Now there was a strange pair. They seemed to both interconnect, but at a level that neither we understood, or really cared. Maybe we should have cared... it may have altered both of their lives immensely. Sure, I did not mind Ein, I actually loved the sprightly Welsh corgi, and his lively antics were always a great distraction from the mission. But that dog was smart. Not in a conventional dog way, but as smart, if not more so, than a human. He exhibited extraordinary talents, some of which were indistinguishable from his daily 'routine' but they were there. For instance, he liked carrots. What normal dog likes carrots? I would almost chuckle at the memory, but for the somber occasion, it would be completely inappropriate. Ed was enigmatic. She was once described as a cat, simply coming and going as she pleased. But she did share loyalty while she was in our 'care', or so to speak. However, they were gone, gallivanting around Earth somewhere, lost now in a period of time, forever unalterable. We cannot grieve for them; instead, we have to honour that memory, as well as everyone else.  
  
~~*~~  
"So, buddy, what has happened?" A low chuckle escaping his lips, Jet said, "Not much? I wouldn't expect otherwise." He paused for a moment, as a soft wind blew, scattering the leaves about.  
  
"Well, I have been busy too," Jet continued as he sat by the tombstone. "I tried to do bounty hunting, but I just can't seem to nab them. Without the rest of them, I just can't cope..."  
  
~~*~~  
  
"Look, we have to earn money, you can't not do that!" Jet said exasperated, his voice strained from hours of argument.  
  
"I don't care!" came the voice from the other side of the door. It was weak; also tired from hours of yelling.  
  
Jet sighed as he crossed his arms. "Then how the hell am I going to feed you if you don't help me catch the bounties?" Jet started to raise his voice again; the standoff was wearing on his patience. It was just like her, to leave him in charge, and not help one bit. Jet then smiled wryly... he installed an override on all the doors for this exact purpose... He started to punch in the delicate and complex code that would override the door's lock.  
  
"I'm coming in... ready or not!" Jet bellowed as he got the last of the numbers entered. The keypad beeped in acknowledgement and the door silently opened slowly. Unfortunately, it was not slow enough to shield Jet from the bottle hurled his way. As the thin glass shattered on his head, he saw the state of the quarters. He cringed, partially from the raw bourbon mixing with the fresh cuts from the shattered bottle, but mostly from the state of the room. It was in shambles with things strewn everywhere. Jet sighed; he would be expected to clean it up, as per normal. Then he happened to glance over at Faye. She was in a worse state. Her makeup was smeared horribly from hours of crying endlessly, her eyes puffy.  
  
Jet was twinged with guilt. He should not have done this, even though...  
  
"Faye..." he started before being rudely cut off.  
  
"Jet, what do you know, huh?!" She spat viciously  
  
"Uhh..." Jet was at a loss for words, the anger draining from his body.  
  
"Just leave!" Faye wailed, her voice tiny  
  
"Sure Faye..." Jet slumped his shoulders in defeat. He would never understand the woman...  
  
~~*~~  
  
"Yeah, Faye left; this time for good," Jet continued, the elapse deafening quiet, "Haven't heard from her for ages, not like you would ever care. You wanted her gone from the start. But life goes..." Jet paused, as another voice finished the sentence  
  
"On. Hello Jet..." the voice was familiar, very familiar...  
  
~~~~~  
Author Notes:  
  
Now, I would do a standard disclaimer, but here is what I did to check... *opens wallet* Pak & Save Receipts, Bus ticket, o.O my lolly that I thought I had lost, empty bank account... nope, no purchase of Cowboy Bebop here, time for phase 2...  
  
Maelgwyn: Jet? Do I own you?  
Jet: *scratches head* Not to my knowledge...  
  
DEDICATIONS: To Davan and Naomi Hunter - my muses & motivators - I couldn't live without both of you. And to Taltos - Thankyou for the beta~ing  
  
* Gay means happy people... come on, would you ever have a bird whistling "It's Raining Men"? Yes? Then get off the drugs, man!  
  
Okies, this is my first Cowboy Bebop; after my rise to fame in the Zoids section. I take all comments, but no flames. I will burn your sorry asses if you do that *cracks knuckles*  
  
Maelgwyn 


	2. Echoes

~~~~~

Echoes

Story: Revisited

Anime: Cowboy Bebop

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Angst, Adult themes

Advisory: Tildes are scene changes; a star encapsulated with tildes is a temporal change. I have also altered into a First Person View with Jet as main POV

~~~~~

I Echoes of a time forgotten; always reverberating and never clear enough to be recognizable.../I

~~~~~

He was alone. Cold, tired and always alone. He dipped the mop back into the bucket of steaming water in a vain attempt to remove the grime that had built up on the mop's head. He wiped the icy perspiration off his forehead as he checked his watch - an antiquated affair it was. The hazy digits read 2:15am. Good, he thought, almost time for a break...

~~~~~

I jumped slightly as a cool wind carried a long forgotten voice down the hill. My mind was sluggish in remembering it - as if I had intentionally buried that memory a long time ago; deep in the chasm that is my mind. As it scrounged through the names and places long forgotten; I spun around; my hand instinctively grabbing for the pistol that once sat in the modified pocket of my white coat, the handcuffs once sat neatly next to them. At reaching air in the pocket, I gulped. My main self-defense was non-existent; again forgotten in the times long past. I neatly chuckled to myself, if I was to be killed by my past, so be it. I lightly spun on the balls of my feet, lightly for a man of my age and raised my fists. Then I noticed them. Those eyes were a piercing green, and tunneled urgently into that recognition center of my brain. Tired, rusted gears clanked over. She must have heard them, for she stared at me quizzically, hurt even.

"Don't you remember me?" Her face reflected the pain that she was feeling. My brain was still clunking over, placing that voice, those eyes into a memory.

After a few seconds, she piqued up, disgust heavy in her voice "I can't believe it... you have forgotten who I am! You're fucking senile!" Her face screwed into a scowl.  That triggered the brain into finding that last piece.  It was so unique… My brain went into overdrive, flashing names with increased vigor, until one clicked into place.

"Faye? Faye Valentine?" My voice was quiet with hope. She was the only person who could do that.

A bright smile lit up her features as she playfully clapped her hands "You remembered! Yay!"

I crossed my arms and grimaced, until she gave me a peck on the cheek, which caused me to blush like a schoolboy. "Come on!  I know of a good coffee house nearby" She said quickly, grabbing my cybernetic arm in the process.  All I could think was… here we go again…

~~~~~

We sat in a cramped cafe, its dilapidated facade backing onto an overcrowded car park. I sat there, quietly sipping my espresso, scanning the disharmonious array of spaceships and land vehicles crammed tightly in the car park for no apparent reason, while she idly stirred her mocha; her green eyes laid transfixed at a point that was only unique for her. For what seemed like an eternity, we sat, continuing to be in our own, albeit separate, worlds.  She snapped out of her revere, whatever it was, and her green eyes flitted about nervously.  I was concerned, but not overly; she was always in trouble with some person or organization.  She cleared her throat and piped up "How have you been, Jet?"

"Recovering from that fright you gave me!" I responded, with a light chuckle thrown in for good measure. She didn't seem impressed. 

Without skipping a beat, however, she lowered her voice to a dangerous level "How is the Bebop?"  With the utterance of those few words, I knew she was in trouble.

"A syndicate?  The ISSP? Who have you double crossed this time?" I sighed in resignation "you know I don't want any part of that life anymore, you understand?" As I stood, preparing to leave, she dropped in something that was irresistible to me…

"Them, plus more…" She half-heartedly smiled, probably at her ingenuity, less at who was after her.  With my interest piques, I dropped my right elbow on the table, rattling the crockery that was strewn along the table, head in hand.  I leered toward her, my grey eyes prying.

"You may remember that" She paused, and drew back; hesitant to what she should say next, fear backlighting her eyes.

"Go on" I pry, my eyes erode through that barrier that she had so well erected.

Her lower lip trembled slightly, as if there was a massive secret; one which she wasn't willing to share.  She darted her head about and continued "It's about the cryogenics labs that have been operating for some time now…" As abruptly as she had started; she stopped.  A strange notion washed over me.  I knew not to press for more.

~~~~~

The Bebop; a 500 meter long ex fishing trawler-cum-interstellar bounty hunting space ship lay disused; suspended dangerously close to the rotting decking; and with that, the turbulent ocean below.  I cringed at ever creak the old girl reverberated from the aging line and pulley system.  The dock space was cheap – as an old associate of mine from the ISSP once owned it, God bless his soul.  The old girl; my old girl reeked of stale disuse and of blossoming rust on the exterior hull.  I dragged my hand across the corridor's walls, feeling the aging brown pain chip and flake away at the slightest touch; I yelled to the retreating figure

"Again, why are we here?" I whined. It's hard to see her like this.

Completely ignoring him, Faye sighed, "It's still a dilapidated pile of junk..." her voice faded as she rounded a corner

Indignantly I yell to the retreating figure "Junk? JUNK! Your asking for it Faye! And you want me to go where?" Small flakes of insulation peel from the pipes overhead

"You were saying?" Faye ducked her head from around the corner

A bead of sweat formed on my brow as I crossed my arms "I didn't say anything about dilapidated"

~~~~

I grunted with effort as I yanked another decayed component from a fused socket.  "Great… another part to replace" I cynically said to the gravity generator as I let it drift from my fingertips.  It smacked itself noisily against the bulkhead until it joined the drifting array of other disused components and lost tools.  As I analyzed the options of un-tightening a bolt using the wrong sized spanner, a figure wearing a dressing gown floated into view.

"Jet… when will the gravity get fixed?" She whined as she drank a squeeze package of orange juice…  my favourite orange juice.

"Soon" I replied in monotone

"Oh… and the shower is broken.  When will it get fixed?"  She added

"Soon" I replied, my eyes narrowing slightly as my eyebrows quivered

"And the fan in the lounge isn't spinning and the cooling seems to…" I cut her off by smacking my artificial hand against a nearby object…  mainly the gravity generator, frying another component.

"Enough!  I'll fix it all soon!  Jesus, it wouldn't hurt for you to do something around the ship!" I sarcastically yelled back at her.  It received a small grunt of dissatisfaction as she shot me a venomous look.  She mimicked my words as she floated out of the room; discarding her empty juice container.

"Oh yeah… that was the last one." She sniped back.

It was going to be a long trip…

~~~~~

I apologise for the delay; I have been quite busy and very preoccupied.  So here is the next chapter.  And I promise, you will want to see the next chapter, Ed-lovers…

Maelgwyn

SEE YOU SPACE COWBOY!


	3. Woolong Worries

~~~~~  
  
Woolong Worries Story: Revisited Anime: Cowboy Bebop Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Angst, Adult themes Advisory: Tildes are scene changes; a star encapsulated with tildes is a temporal change.  
  
~~~~~ "Humans were meant to work and sweat for a living" (Jet Black, Episode 11 - Toys in the attic) ~~~~~  
  
The respirator wheezed slowly, pumping the life-giving oxygen into his lungs. The bullet had sheared through flesh and bone finally settling amongst scar tissue in the lungs. His breath was ragged and agonising slow from the trauma, his body shaking slightly for some unknown reason. His dreams, induced by chemicals that steadily streamed from the saline compound through the IV, were in turmoil - images flashed and played as if projected by a broken vid screen. A woman grasped his clammy hand, silently praying for the best...  
  
~~~~~  
  
"The hyperspace port you are exiting is situated at Earth. Please pay the appropriate fee upon exit of the gate," the synthetic voice warbled through the communications channel. I sighed visibly. At least that is working fine. This whole trip was fraught with danger. First was the gravity generator. Next was the hot water cylinder, although, voicelessly I blamed one Faye Valentine for overusing it. I had forgotten how many showers a woman needed when she was on a ship, cruising in the middle of no-where. Sure, a guy goes for days, maybe weeks when he is in the company of the crew. Nevertheless, women. they need at least one a day. She quoted that she needed to keep her 'image'. I snorted, what do I care about her image? But that is digressing. The new gates sounded very good; the new vocal streaming meant that they did not broadcast in every known language, making it near impossible to understand what they are saying. Nevertheless, that meant new equipment, and more woolongs spent on simply obtaining it. Moreover, at about 5000 woolongs. it was 5000 more than what I have. It interfaced to the existing system by a plethora of errant wires and soldered plugs - a hack job at its best. It is not my fault that the short- band radio is 5 years too old. and the microwave receiver dish was unaligned. That meant more repairs. and more money. Something I was lacking at an extreme rate.  
  
On strange sounds, I haven't heard Faye for a while. Maybe she is sleeping again, or eating my food. I cringed at the thought. She had already eaten the fridge clean, the cupboards dry and the emergency rations (I kept a close eye after the last time.). At this rate, even this bounty head won't replenish my bank account. I looked at the print-out I held. James T. Wylder - wanted for grand larceny and two counts of murder. What did he steal? No one knows, and the government is not going to tell us either. All that is known is that he killed to get a clean, albeit bloody getaway. It is rumoured through my net of colleagues that he has the Crypt-Breaker software. Big deal, I reply to them, the software was encoded to a level that is unparalleled by most software. But their answer is always the same. Jet. he has the key too!  
  
"But I thought we destroyed it?" I would always reply, incredulous to the idea. Well... by destroy, including into casino circulation whereby it would become untraceable, until they punctured it, then consider it gone... However, only one person out of the vast networks of allegiances has been any help.  
  
"Well. there was a backup." Casey told me. Casey was a young lassie - very intelligent one too. She worked with the master programmer on the Crypt- Break software, then working jointly with us to try and recover it. She was 19 then, and the ten long years haven't waned on her yet. The skin- tight lab coat she was wearing accentuated her voluptuous form. I couldn't help but to stare. until she snapped me out of my reverie. "Jet, are you even listening to me?"  
  
"No." I quickly altered the answer with a goofy grin and furiously nodding my head.  
  
Warily, she replied "Well, I better just recap just to be safe. The microprocessor was duplicated, at some point." I knew who must have done it, the supplier to Gordon, the casino manager. "Black market sales have pinpointed its location to Mr Wylder, or so my sources say." I grunted in concurrence. "Unfortunately, on delivery of it, the goons told to protect it were brutally slaughtered. It seems" she lowered her voice "that he was doing the premium `eye. Be careful Jet, you sexy thing." She giggled, adding the last comment and a blown kiss as she shut off the communication link.  
  
I leaned back in my chair, the same goofy smile plastered on my face. She liked me. I know it.  
  
"Don't be daft Jet. you're far too old for her" Faye sarcastically said with a smile as she glided up behind his chair. It was unnerving that she could almost read my mind, but I chose to ignore her as the ship plummeted into the gate. It always felt as if a resin was decelerating the ship smoothly - just so that it could be scanned by the gate's automatic payment block. I watched in dismay as another 500 woolongs was deducted from my bank account. At this stage. I dare not think about it as I swung around to engage Faye in another thrilling verbal free-for-all.  
  
"Why Faye. Jealous.?" I snickered as her face contorted into a vicious looking snarl.  
  
"Mr Black, unless you want another flattened nose, I would keep quiet." He curtly said as she left the navigation room. Strike another up for Jet!  
  
~~~~~  
  
The air hung limply over the ocean as the Bebop engaged the landing sequence; engine recesses and major vents creaked closed as the ablated hull hit the ocean below. I sighed; thankful that the ship hadn't turned on the "We're sinking and there is nothing you can do about it" light. The fine salt water spray worked its way into the gaps between the hull plates on the upper deck however. With that, I groaned silently, meant that it needs to be washed down, or those plates will corrode, costing me...  
  
Ultimately, life seems do revolve around Woolongs... or some derivative of it. Which only though sweat and blood you can procure them.  
  
"So, going for a little rendezvous?" Faye quipped at me as I stormed out of the cockpit. She pulled a smug face as I glared at her.  
  
"No." I glared, "I am off to find out next pay-check Faye." She slightly smirked at my outburst. I smiled and added "More than you" I chuckled at her sudden scowl.  
  
"I might just forget to disengage the magnetic deck then. Mr Black"  
  
"No go, the magnets are disabled - we are planet-bound. You should remember that!"  
  
"Whatever. just get some food while your out.. that is, if you get your bounty"  
  
"I will"  
  
"Betcha you wont" My muscles tensed as she uttered those words. How dare she doubt my abilities!  
  
"I WILL and I WILL have my cake too" I swore that she was laughing as I stormed off.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Wearily, after plastering the area with enquires, I drew a blank. People either didn't want to disclose his location - or they were telling the truth. To avoid the mocking that Faye was most likely to dish out, I walked into the revolving doors. It squeaked noisily as I entered the hotel; its faded paintwork and grimy surfaces reflected the state of living that I can afford. The receptionist cheerfully smiled and quipped a quick greeting. I had to smile back, mainly due to the energy that she extruded. She was quite pretty, a smaller girl, about 18, with a slight form. Her red hair was cropped to shoulder length, framing her beaming face. Her loose fitting top hung on her lanky frame, and a badge with "Francois" was pinned on without much care. She seemed to be familiar. that kind of energy is something rare in people these days.  
  
"Can I get a room? The cheapest if possible"  
  
"Sure Jet-person, 1 room, coming right up" she said, waving her fingers above her head  
  
"HANG ON!" I exclaimed ".is that you?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sorry for the delay people, Its my fault that I am a lazy person, and work has had me really busy. So read and review please  
  
Maelgwyn 


	4. I forgot the titles name Will fix it on...

Chapter Title: Recognition   
Story Title: Revisited   
Uploaded on: 11th November 2004   
Betaed: No

Jet dozed fitfully on the hard couch, vivid memories assaulting his sleepy subconscious. Pictures of a buxom woman, Jet remembered as his mother, playing old school jazz on the radio as she mopped the eternally dirty floors. He remembered images of three boys, each muddy and smelly from fishing at the docks. Snippets of conversations floated in the mire of images, laughter and pain also sifted through. Memories of feelings, tangled with the innocence of youth, weaved into the tapestry, which was forming. Then he heard screaming. High pitched screaming. No, make it stop, he thought as he rolled over again. He banged his hands subconsciously around his ears. Please, he demanded to himself, make it stop. Jet bolted upright as his muddled brain clicked back into place. The film of cold sweat slowly dried on his brow; the reassuring tick of the cuckoo clock and the firmness of the couch under himself made his brain slow again. "Come home with me" Ed had said at the hotel "You can have some dinner there too!" Her childlike innocence had never diluted from the years of being in the big world. But he was so relieved that she is alive! His cherry tomato...

The apartment that she led him to was tiny; a shoebox made of pre-fabricated concrete and steel. However, the apartment was part of a massive building, one that had stood the test of time and now looked weathered against the ever-changing landscape. People milled in and out, some looked as though dependent on a basic government allowance; others were more just low-income earners, and this is all they could afford. Leading him up about three flights of steps, Ed rambled on about her job and about Ein's puppies. Eventually making it to her front door, Ed slid the key into the lock and forced the door open. Inside was reasonably tidy (especially for Ed's standards), having that worn, lived in look. It was a simple arrangement, a central hallway which had each room built off of it like a honeycomb.

He lied back down and tried to doze off but a scream broke the almost deadly silence of the high-rise block. Still groggy, Jet stood, allowing his balance to centre. The scream occurred again, this time it was a bit more familiar. Jet pressed his ear to the wall, hearing a gruff voice yell, and small yelps as objects crashed to the floor. Shit, he thought, this is a grand domestic. Until he realised where the layout meant it would be. Not her, he though, not his cherry tomato. He straightened up quickly, banging his large frame on a bookcase. Cursing quietly he snuck out of the sanctuary provided by the back room and slid into the corridor. His senses were finely tuned, each breath calculated and his steps tuned to make no noise. He eventually made it to the kitchen, the source of the disturbance. Faintly, he could hear their neighbours complaining at the disturbance, themselves creating more noise by belting walls and the like. C'mon, Jet thought, it wasn't right that no-one came to check it out, but that's the way that this world had become, not only corrupt legally, but the social morals that also eroded. As he inched the door open using his shoulder, a plate crashed ominously near the jam, making the door go from a quiet whoosh, to a squeal as the faux porcelain scratched at the prefab concrete floor. It went dead silent, until a gruff voice barked "Who the fuck is it?"

Jet tensed as he kicked the door. It swung wildly, slamming at the hinges until the plate acted as a door stop. Jet drank in the surrounds, a familiar man terrorising his cherry tomato. Jet squinted "Who the hell are you?"

"Answer my question. Who are you?" he smirked as he grabbed Ed's hair and yanked "Ed, sweet-thing, who the fuck is that person and why is he here?"

"Jet" Ed's voice was lowered to a whimper "Get out of here. He will hurt you"

Jet merely snarled out "Let her go, fuck-face, or I will rearrange your face to resemble your persona a bit better."

As the words escaped his lips, the stranger flung her unceremoniously towards the wall, and barked back a challenge, one that Jet couldn't refuse

"Bring it on woman. You couldn't hurt a fly"

Jet lunged as Ed muttered the stranger's name. Jets focussed mind then clicked all the pieces together. James. It was the same name as bounty whats-his-name James. The pieces fell together as he landed a soft right into Jet's stomach. Jet then noticed the paraphernalia. The eye shooter, the small purple vials not unlike what Spike had once held. Each piece then soaked Jet into a frenzy, not unlike a wild animal after it had been wounded. He struck back with a left into James, but he was fast due to the narcotic. Jets punch merely glanced at his right arm, spinning him around. Jet noticed the fly kick a little too late; its effect on Jets unguarded back was devastating. He fell to his knees, anger still surging through his veins. Then James smirked and descended upon Jet.

Ed screamed more. With each scream it seemed to make James even more determined to hurt Jet. Ed's brain raced to see what she could do. Then she remembered. Both their lives could depend on Jet's sheer attention to the minute details – and his fastidiousness. She slinked out of the room as James sunk a left kick into Jets unguarded stomach.

She raced through the flat, careening around the doorframe as she went. Her youthful exuberance was exchanged for a swift necessity to help the ones who both loved and cared for her. She retraced her time with James in her head; it was beautiful at the start. She thought he really had cared for her. Then he had the 'eye. He changed from the caring and sensitive James to a wild monster. He had stopped her from going to the police or from running. 'I will kill you' he had said. It rang hollowly though her head as she rummaged through Jet's meagre belongings. This time, she thought, I will be the victor - you will not succeed. And then there it was. The 9mm that Jet always had snugly in the pancake holster. She gingerly removed it with a small 'snick'. The butt of it felt heavy, she thought, so that must mean it is loaded. She removed the safety catch and disengaged the clip. Full. She heard a groan, low and familiar. Jet!

There she stood, her feet slightly apart, her right hand holding the pistol, her left steadying it. She pointed it at James, hoping to elicit a response, as if the hunk of deadly metal would be felt. But he couldn't be raised from his hunger - the bloodlust was too strong. Jet groaned again, a trickle of blood oozing from his lips to collect with the puddle on the floor. His body was battered and bruised; no doubt there was a broken limb. She then screamed "James! James stop it!" then added with a wimper "please?"

James snarled, as he turned "Didn't I tell you bit" He was cut off mid sentence as he spied the familiar shape of a gun. Then the decline snuck in. James knew that on a full load of 'eye he could have dodged a bullet, even at this close range. But the dizzying effect of withdrawal took hold. His eyes became unfocussed. He knew that he would need the last of the vial that sat on the table. He became all sweetness. "Francois? Honey, what's the matter?" he spoke levelly as he inched backwards, towards the kitchen bench.

Ed squeezed the trigger as he turned to grab the shooter. The bullet pierced his lung. Bright red blood oozed from the wound almost instantaneously. The glasser bullet had done its job – haemorrhaging blood vessels and slicing cleanly through tissue to make it into a mass of pulpy slop. His breathing became laboured as the shock took control of his body. Then she walked to where he lay, the floor becoming slippery from the blood lost by both men. She reached down to his carotid artery. Feeling only stillness from it, she smiled. She was free... but what about her Jet? She gasped as her instincts kicked in.

DANGER! Well, that was taken care of.

RESPONSE! "Jet, can you hear me? Open your eyes! Squeeze my hand Jet"

TBC

And that is it for this chapter. I know, its rather not good, and the layout will be crappy, but take heart that I actually did some writing. And it's rather longer than what I normally do. So yeah, I'm sorry for not doing this chapter sooner, I have been busy with work and other commitments. But that's no excuse, no? So I am sorry for this sub par work that I want you to swallow. But it is effective. But now its onwards and upwards to my next chapter.

Maelgwyn


	5. Emergency

Chapter Title: Emergency

Story Title: Revisited

Revision: 0.1

Beta-ed: No

Faye wrote in her diary, the pencil that she used was chewed to the graphite centre at the end. Her face was locked in concentration as she scribbled more messages to herself through the little pink book. As she scribbled her name at the end, a groan resonated through the ship. Faye sighed disgustedly. It's always the same with men… act all macho until they get hurt, then they become snivelling babies. She closed the book and stuffed the pencil down the spiral spine.

"I'd better go see what he wants," she said softly to no one in particular. She placed the wee book on the coffee table and strode purposefully to Jet's quarters. He did get hurt pretty bad, she resigned to herself, and someone has to look after him… As she tended t his every whimsical need, a shadowy hand reached out and plucked the wee book from the table. Giggling mostly to itself, it turned each page with consummate ease, absorbing most of the details that were locked inside the hardcover bindings. Then it felt her.

"Spike!" She did almost sound rational. Shit. Put down the book Spiegel and back into a good retreat position…

Faye kept writing in her journal, now a black covered visual art diary. She sighed as another groan echoed through the ship. No matter what she could do, she couldn't shake the feeling that if she dropped the book; someone would read it. But he wasn't here this time. There wasn't a pervert on the prowl. One that wanted to get inside her head, and most likely her skimpy pants as well. So this time, she just tossed the book so lightly onto the table so that it made a thumping sound. She got up and stretched, her body had sat in one place for too long. Then she wove through the small doorways and hatches that littered the ship. Then she made it to his room.

His room stank of cigarette smoke and the unique musk of Jet. She opened her mouth, but caught her scathing remarks before she said them. Jet groaned again and turned to his side, pushing the small corgi further off the bed.

"Poor girl" she muttered as she spied poor Ed lying on the floor beside him. She then knelt down and said into her ear "Has the baby worn you out?"

Stretching, she then bent over the sweaty form of Jet. Faye placed her hand to his forehead. He was hot. Damn, she thought, he has a fever. She grabbed the cloth that was on his head and remoistened it in the basin next to the sleeping man. "Sleep, and let the girl rest" Faye mumbled to Jet as she re-covered his tousled body with the blanket and readjusted the corgi onto his feet once more. Then her communicator chimed.

Jet stood in a darkened room; his prothesis twitching. He turned in all directions, but all he could see was the enveloping blackness.

"Great, don't tell me, I'm in my subconscious" Jet said sarcastically 

"Yes. You are. Now, be a good boy and play along" Maelgwyn used his Charlton Hesston voice "and if you don't, I am thinking pink leotards".

Images… of mother, brother and sister flashed in the darkness, as if in a bad movie theatre. Some were sepia toned… the old ones of when life seemed simpler. There was some of the beach - the real beach, not the harbour of Ganymede. Of when he won awards, scraped knees and laughed and cried. Then there were the ones that disturbed him the most... He felt compelled to view it. So it played out.

His mother, contorted on the pavement lying so very still. His brother was crying into his hands. The coppery smell of blood and rubbish filled his nostrils. But it was her blank expression, not of fear or love possibly disturbed him the most. Jet spun, viewing all the police officers and ambulance bearers. Each was faceless. His uniform had slight smears of blood on the sleeve. He felt his cheek - it was moist with tears. But he must be strong…

Ed awoke with a start. Something wasn't right. She sat up quickly, and grimaced at the popping sounds that her back made. She surveyed the room; it was dark. The Bebop had placed itself onto night mode, so it wasn't the darkness. She was on the floor, so the gravity was stable. Then she listened. The ship's hull vibrated normally as if unde4r heavy acceleration. Then she heard it. There was no breathing beside her. Her head swivelled to her left as the emergency lighting snapped on. She scrambled to her feet as the ship rocked ever so slightly.

TBC

The prologue has a funny side story. It was intended to be a complete story in itself, but it never reached fruition. But it fits nicely into the beginning of this story, and it makes it flow with my ideas more. Anyway, it's deviating slightly with my original plot idea, but I thought that this would work better than the previous idea(s). Anyway, after this chapter, I am contemplating another Zoids story before the next one. Italics are kind of not in the story… more musings. And lastly, my lack of action, or even on the birth of more inspiration is because of Peter F. Hamilton and his new book Pandora's Star.

vvv vvv

Maelgwyn & CW

SEE YOU LATER SPACE COWBOY


End file.
